Alterations
by Dazzled-Midnight-Melody
Summary: Enemy Ties. Family Lies.
1. Chapter 1

It was a chilly afternoon, when she came for her, the leaves had just begun to change in Odessa, and the weather forecaster had predicted an oncoming cold front.

The child was only nine, and had run to her sanctuary after discovering the truth, surrounding her birth, her adoption. She wasn't far from home, about a quarter of a mile, but she was disorientated. Young Claire Bennet, saw the world through new eyes, she saw it for what it was.

The blonde was furious, how could they never tell her that she wasn't theirs? Why hadn't her birth parents wanted her? Why did this happen to her? In these instances, Claire Bennet wished only to bring her parents pain, both of them, after all, that was what they had done to her.

"You won't fix anything by crying Claire," a detached voice said; to which Claire saw the blurry figure of a woman. Had she been crying this whole time? A quick look down at her wet shirt told her that she had, and judging by the knot in her throat, it had been pretty fierce.

"H-how do you know my name?" Claire asked, tripping over her words in shocked curiosity. The blonde girl reached up to wipe the tear from her green eyes, and met a hazel pair that belonged to a rather posh looking older woman.

"Claire, I have known you since birth, I've been protecting you," the woman said, sounding impatient as she extended a gloved hand to the girl and motioned for her to take it.

Claire was nervous, her parents- if they still counted as that –had warned her of the danger that a stranger presented. Staring at the thin hand for a minute, Claire rubbed her tongue against her braces deciding what to do.

Suddenly, the small fibres that engulfed the surface of her tongue caught on the rough metal, cutting through the tissue. "Ouch," she whispered, but just as soon as it had come, the pain was gone, no blood seeping through her mouth, nothing.

"Did you hurt yourself child?" the woman asked, her hand still extended, as she swiped away a stray strand of her silk black hair.

"No," Claire replied, grabbing the woman's hand, "not in the slightest."

The pair walked the small distance back to the creamy chocolate house of the Bennet family.

"I thought," Claire said, with a distraught expression, "why are you taking me back?" Claire was nervous now; the quick moment in which she had expected to be taken away had passes, leaving only the growing feeling of worry.

"Now, now, I expected you smarter than that, you can't just leave here, without telling anyone where you'll be off to." She gave Claire an exasperated expression, then said something under her breath, that sounding an awful lot like, "You are your father's child."

The whole situation suddenly seemed idiotic to Claire, kids get told that they were adopted every day, and so what if she was? It had been foolish of her to take the woman's hand, and the nine year old only hoped that she would not bring harm to her family.

Noah Bennet answered the door, looking relieved to see Claire, but perplexed at the woman beside her. "Claire-bear, we were worried sick," he said as he embraced her, "I'm so sorry that I upset you, I love you!" he exclaimed, holding her tighter than before.

The woman cleared her throat, and Noah was brought back to the current situation. Standing up, he addressed the woman wearily: "Thank you so much for bringing her back to us, please come inside." The woman merely pursed her lips and followed him inside the house. It didn't escape Noah's attention that he still hadn't let go of Claire.

"Claire, why don't you go upstairs and play, I think the adults need to talk," Noah said tiredly, rubbing his glasses against his light blue button up.

Claire was eager to oblige, merely glad that she wasn't in trouble with her father. With one last glance at the two adults, she scuttled up the stairs.

"My wife Sandra is just getting dinner ready if you'd like to stay," Noah said lightly, "Oh, where are my manners, I'm Noah Bennet, and you are?" he asked, hoping she was simply a random stranger walking the streets.

The woman spoke, "I know who you are Noah, and I have been watching your family for quite some time. I'm here for Claire," She spoke as if what she was saying was the most common thing in the world.

Noah gaped at her words, before reaching for the stun gun in his jacket pocket, "Who are you and what do you want with her?" Noah asked angrily, his tone hushed, so as not to alert Sandra to any predicament, as he aimed the device at his company.

"My name is Angela Petrelli, and I think that it is time that Claire lived with her real family," Angela was calm in the face of danger, and looked at Noah skeptically, "To put it simply, I placed her in your care briefly, and now I want her back."

Noah stared her down before realizing exactly what he was doing, "Please don't take her, we love her so much." He begged, his eyes sad at the thought of loosing his daughter.

"She was given to you with the promise that you would not get attached," Angela said curtly, her hazel eyes unfeeling, "so do yourself a favor, and give her to me, before I am forced to take higher measures."

Noah nodded, "Just give us a minute to say goodbye," he pleaded, hoping that maybe he could hide her, keep her until she was legally an adult, and see her grow up.

"I'm afraid I do not have time for you to attempt to keep her from me any longer," Angela replied, heading up the stairs to tend to her granddaughter.

"Dear, pack your things, we'll be on the first flight out to New York," Angela said, without the slightest hesitation in her voice.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dear, pack your things, we'll be on the first flight out to New York," Angela said, without the slightest hesitation in her voice.

"What?" Claire replied, her head spinning at the woman's words, "I have school and my family, I can't just leave! My dad will never let you take me!" she exclaimed, her courage pilling up, knowing of the devotion her father held for her.

"I'm afraid that it isn't up to your caretakers, as I am of a higher authority," Angela said, a smile gracing her face as Claire fought just like a Petrelli, "I am taking you somewhere where you will belong, and have everything you've always wanted, alongside your real family."

Angela Petrelli's words confused Claire most of all, her _real family_? This woman knew where they were and was planning on taking her to them! "If I don't like it, can I come home?" Claire asked anxiously, seeing that the woman was serious.

Angela nodded, "Of course dear, I only want the best for you," she said, "Now hurry, grab only what's most important to you," at Claire's stare she added, "we'll be shopping, so there is no need to bring any clothes, you'll need warmer things, where we're going."

In the end, Claire decided to bring only her favorite bear from her collection. At the foot of the stairs, the woman was waiting for her with her parents, who were crying. "Don't worry, I'll call every night and you can come visit," she said to her parents before giving them and Lyle a warm embrace.

Angela Petrelli left the Bennet house, pleased that her dream had been incorrect, and no one had gotten hurt.

Unfortunately, her dreams had a funny was of being incredibly accurate, and suddenly Claire was on the ground.

"Noah!" Angela screamed in anger, he had been aiming for her, but caught Claire's shoulder instead with those stupid guns they distributed for the baggers of the company. Angela was on the ground with Claire in an instance, seeing the burn marks where the electricity had roasted her skin.

Ignoring the ruckus the small family around her was making, she ripped the wires from the young girls skin, and watched as the wound repaired itself. "Amazing," she whispered, only remembering having met one other person with this ability.

Shoving aside the irritating Bennets, Angela called her driver Isaac to help get her into the car.

"It's in your best interest to leave the situation alone now." The dark haired woman said to the disheveled man, whom had just injured his 'daughter' while attempting to 'save' her.

"We should take her to the hospital," Sandra interjected, her pale skin white, with worry, "just to make sure she is okay."

Angela stared at the woman, the trace of tears left from when Claire appeared injured fading now, "That will not be necessary, I know what is best for her."

With that, Angela climbed into her car, and with not so much as a wave, drove away.

Angela was quick to pull out her phone and called the company.

"Yes, René, your services are needed, it seems that Bennet, and his family have seen too much. Take all memories of Claire and myself," her order was near silent, so as not to wake her grand daughter. "Please, be thorough."

XxXxX

The drive was silent, as Claire had yet to wake up from the shock that Noah had distributed. Once their destination was met, Angela nudged Claire carefully, "Wake up dear, we're at the airport."

Claire opened her eyes groggily, "You know," she said with sleep in her voice, "you could have avoided this whole situation, by just leaving me with my family, you jerk."

Angela rubbed her temples before turning to face the nine year old, "Now, is that anyway to talk to your grandmother, Claire?" she asked quietly, her voice lacking its usual hardness.

Claire shot up, "You're my grandma?" she asked, her voice clouded with disbelief as she looked for similarities between the two of them. They had similar bone structure and lips, "Really?" she asked, perplexed.

"Yes, you are the daughter of my son, which, officially, makes me your grandmother. I suppose you have many questions, and I promise, they will be answered, at home, in New York." Angela spoke with her eyes on her watch, they had very little time to get through security and board, but with a few pulled strings, she imagined it would be rather simple.

On the flight, Claire was pulled back into an exhausted slumber, her body recovering what her newly acquired healing powers would not fix, her emotions.

Upon landing, there was a car waiting for the two, and Claire was suddenly wide-awake.

"What should I call you?" Claire asked Angela, with intense concentration, "I mean, I know that you are my grandmother, but it doesn't really seem to fit you."

"My name is Angela Petrelli, and you may call me that if you wish." Angela said, her expression tiresome.

"Maybe Gran," Claire suggested, "it has a nice ring to it, and says that you're my grandmother."

Angela nodded, and listened to Claire's questions the rest of the drive to the mansion, giving very few answers, of which merely sprung more questions. It seemed odd to Angela that Claire was not an emotional wreck, after having just been taken from the family that had raised her for the past eight years. Why was it, that a child of nine was not the least bit upset at her situation?

"Claire," Angela said, quieting the young girl, "when we arrive you must change before meeting my husband and son, it would seem odd to them if you came wearing scorched clothes."

"Scorched cl-" Claire began, but the grew silent when she noticed the hear marks on her shirt, "What happened to me?" she asked with a fearful expression.

Angela saw the opportunity and took it, it would quite possibly end all potential problems involving her granddaughters emotional longing for the Bennets, "That man, Noah was it?" she said with a hint of dramatics, "He shot you with one thousand bolts of electricity," pausing to let that sink in, "luckily I was there to protect you, from him as he tried to injure you further."

"Why am I okay?" Claire asked, her green eyes filling with tears, as she brushed her blonde bangs out of her face.

"You have a very special talent, and you will have to keep it a secret, quite simply, you can't get hurt," Angela whispered, as the car jolted to a stop, "oh lovely, we're here."


	3. Chapter 3

"You have a very special talent, and you will have to keep it a secret, quite simply, you can't get hurt," Angela whispered, as the car jolted to a stop, "oh lovely, we're here."

Angela rushed Claire into the large brick mansion, before presenting her with a white button-up shirt, a pencil skirt, a coat, and a pair of flats; an outfit well past her nine-years, but more suited for Angela's world.

When Claire emerged from the decorated bathroom, she was fit for meeting her family, and coincidentally, Peter walked in.

"Mom, Nathan's going to be late for lunch, he and Heidi…" Peter trailed off as he saw the young blonde standing in the entrance hall. "Who's this?" he asked, eyeing the girl with confusion, what was his mother scheming?

"Not now Peter, we'll discuss that once your brother and father arrive," Angela said with a smile, "This is Claire, she'll be joining us for lunch."

Peter nodded, having learned to not bother with his mother's schemes by now.

"Claire, Peter is in medical school, training to become a hospice nurse," Angela said suddenly, "Peter, why don't you tell Claire here about school?"

Peter nodded, "Ugh, yeah, Claire, why don't we hang out on the patio?" he asked, gesturing for Claire to follow him. They walked in silence to the patio, a large open area with columns separating it from the yard.

"So Claire, why don't you tell me what's really going on, why did my mother bring you here?" Peter asked, his tone accusing.

"I'm Claire, and Gran said she was protecting me, I just-" Claire began, but Peter stopped her.

"Gran? You think my mother is your grandmother?" he asked incredulously, "That would mean that you are either Nathan's or mine," he looked worried, so Claire rose to comfort him.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Claire spoke in a reassuring voice, "Maybe she wasn't serious, I don't know, she just said she was taking me to family, maybe it's not you," Claire was worried about him, he seemed nice, and was at most ten years older than she was.

"I'm sorry Claire, this is probably very distressing for you, excuse me," Peter said quietly, excusing himself from the room.

In the kitchen of the mansion, Peter found his mother, sitting at the table as the staff busied themselves making lunch.

"Mom, what's going on, Claire said you are her grandmother, and that means…" he trailed off, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility that Nathan had a daughter that he had not known about. He was only twenty, so that eliminated the idea that he had a nine year old daughter, but Nathan, he was nearly thirty, a daughter at twenty wouldn't have been too out of the ordinary.

"She's Nathan's." Angela Petrelli said simply, not wanting to beat around the bush with her youngest son. "She's quite a special young girl and I think that she's old enough to come into the family name, better now than later."

Peter gaped at his mother, "How do you think Nathan is going to take this? He and Heidi just got pregnant." He said nervously, his mind reeling with the unsteady future that his mother had just given Claire, his niece.

Just then, the pair heard the door open accompanied with the hearty laughs of Arthur and Nathan Petrelli along with Nathan's wife, Heidi.

Peter walked with his mother back to the patio to wait with Claire for the others to show.

The wait wasn't long, the reminisce of a joke still on his face when Nathan saw her.

"Ma, who's this?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Ma, who's this?" Nathan's question hung in the air, as Peter moved to stand by Claire.

"Well," Angela said, smiling at her family, "I didn't expect that you'd bring Heidi, but I suppose she'll have to know too eventually."

"Angela, this is not the time for this," Arthur warned, his voice an octave above dangerous. His eyes smoldered as he stared her down, challenging her to go against him.

"I'm sorry my love," Angela said, caressing her husband's cheek with apparent care, "but I dreamt it," she conveyed something unknown to him through her eyes, something that made him rethink his challenge. He nodded roughly, and turned to Nathan.

You might want to sit down son," he said, his rough voice piercing the air with an aura of authority, "you to Heidi," he added, as an after thought, nearly forgetting that his daughter-in-law was there at all.

Nathan shook his head, "What is it with this family and their damn secrets?" he muttered, growing harsher by the second, "Who is she? Our long lost cousin, come to spend time with the family?" Nathan glared at his parents, with contempt.

"Actually Nathan, this secret is yours," Angela said, her eyes stormy and dark aside her pale face, "She's your daughter," she spat, seemingly angered by her sons words, "I brought her here to know her family, to know _you_." Her words were dripping with venom, and this took Nathan aback.

"My daughter?" Nathan choked, his eyes widening, "Is this some kind of joke?"

Arthur stepped in at that moment, "This isn't a joke Nathan, she's your daughter, she's nine, and her name is Claire, why don't we all get a drink and talk about this?"

Nathan nodded, unable to take his eyes away from Claire, as he sunk into his seat. "You're mine?" he asked, his voice weak, but with the undertones of love? Longing? What exactly was that?

"I don't know, this is the first I've heard of this." Claire said, as all eyes turned to her, "but frankly I don't really care." With tears in her eyes, Claire left the patio and ran into the mansion. There, she found a small cupboard where she could hide for a while.

Claire heard them calling for her, in fact, she heard them searching in vain for an hour, before the cries died down.

The muffled voice of Peter Petrelli was the last she heard before falling asleep, "Claire will come out when she cools down, she probably just needs time to think."

XxXxX

When Claire woke up, she found herself in Nathan's arms, "You gave us quite the scare there," he said, his lips curling into a smile as he looked at her face. She was the best of Meredith and he, a beautiful girl, with his chin, and her eyes.

"I don't understand," she said anxiously, "none of you really like me, why would you even think about keeping me around?" her voice was overflowing with self-doubt and confusion, a tone Nathan was quite familiar with, hearing it most often coming from his own mouth.

"Claire, no one dislikes you, we merely don't know you yet," he sighed, "listen, your presence has stirred things up a bit, and that really isn't your fault, I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong idea, but I just wasn't expecting you." Nathan tried to give a welcoming smile, but he felt that it most likely looked more like a grimace.

"This is going to take some time, and everyone has to play their part in the greater scheme of things." Nathan said, brushing her hair out of her face.

The lawyer carried his new-found daughter into the dining room, where a late lunch, and their family was waiting, she looked at the adults sheepishly, as Nathan set her in a chair.

"I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to disappear like that, I just got anxious and-" Peter interrupted her, saving her from whatever potentially embarrassing thing she would have said.

"That's alright Claire, you didn't deserve the pressure this family put on you," he said, smiling at her with his crooked smile.

"Well, I'm just glad that our family is here, complete once again!" Arthur proclaimed, to which everyone laughed.

_Maybe I can feel at home here after all, _Claire thought to herself as they ate.

After lunch, Nathan pulled Claire aside, "Claire, Heidi is pretty angry with me right now, and I'm in no position to be a father to anyone, much less a nine year old girl, but as Heidi and I are taking a little break, and you can stay with me, if you'd like." His voice was filled with the fears of his heart, what if she hated him?

"I'd like that," Claire replied, her green eyes smiling, "I mean, if you really are my father and all, it only makes sense that I stay with you."

"Great!" Nathan said, surprised at how happy her choice made him, "Let me just go talk to Ma and Dad about it," he said, patting her back fondly.

As Nathan walked back towards the sitting room, where his parents and brother were drinking coffee, he wondered what his relationship with her would become.

"Ma, Dad, Peter," Nathan began, "Heidi is going to live with her parents for a while, and Claire is coming to live with me." He said, to which his mother smirked.

"Nathan dear, what business do you have being a father to anyone, why you barely know how to take care of yourself," Angela said, her unfeeling tone careful, "She is coming with me to Paris, where she will learn how to take care of herself, before I let you take parenting for a ride." Her eyes burned with an unknown emotion.

"Ma, in nine months, I will be a father again. Claire is my daughter, and she will stay with me." His voice was harsh and his tone final.

"Well, then Angela, it seems our son has made up his mind, and Claire will be going with him," Arthur said, at which Angela glared at him.

Nathan had never seen his parents at odd like this before, but he couldn't worry about that, "Thank you, Dad."

"You're all crazy, don't you see that it takes more to raise a child than sudden decisions and biological fatherhood? She needs more than a Dad who works all the time and grandparents who are always scheming!" Peter said, his voice filled with emotion.

"If you feel that way Peter, then why don't you move in with Nathan and make sure he does a proper job?" Angela suggested, with a miniscule smile in her husbands direction.

"I think I will," Peter replied.


	5. Chapter 5

Claire grew restless during her time with her father and uncle, she longed of the days where she was just Claire Bennet, rather than Claire Petrelli.

Things were far less complicated then, she was able to go out in whatever outfit she wished, where as now her outfits were pre-selected for her, from the new wardrobe that Angela had bought her, which consisted of mostly black, white, and red.

Claire missed going to school with other kids, rather than being tutored privately and learning French, faster than she could think.

Most of all, however, Claire missed the feeling that something was waiting for her, that would change her life forever. The feeling was very similar to receiving the birthday present you had waited for months to receive, bittersweet.

Nathan had been more than accommodating, trying his hardest to be the kind of father one could be proud of, bringing home surprise presents, locking criminals behind bars, and reassuring her when she was worried. He was everything that she wanted, and yet, she couldn't help but feel that she was tearing him away from his destiny, his destiny with Heidi, and their son, who was to be born soon.

Claire felt even worse about what she was doing to Peter. On her tenth birthday last month, Peter had missed a big test, just to take her to the circus. Sure, she enjoyed his company, he was her best friend, but she was holding him back too, and she hated herself for it.

As she dialed the number she had memorized in her six months, she felt no regret. "Hello?" a calculating voice answered, to which Claire sighed, "Claire is that you? What is it you need?" as her grandmother spoke, Claire briefly debated hanging up. _No, you need to do this_, she told herself mentally.

"Yes Gran I'm here, and I'm ready to go to Paris," Claire said with poise, her manner so far from her true feelings that it surprised her.

"That's wonderful Claire, I'll be there tomorrow to pick you up," Angela replied, her voice pleased. Of course her grandmother had known all along what needed to be done, but her father being so blinded by the guilt of missing her grow up, was unable to see the truth.

"Actually Gran, I'd prefer it if we were able to leave today, to lessen the pain for Dad and Uncle Peter." Her decision was made, she had already written a letter, explaining to both of them, where she went, and her reasons for doing so. There seemed no room for failure in her plan, so she had packed in the dead of night and called for a car to deliver her to the Petrelli Mansion in five minutes.

"Alright Claire, I'll just have to make a few calls, should I send a car?" Angela asked, inwardly proud that her granddaughter was able to make the hard decisions, even if her son seemed unable to.

"No, I've prepared for this already." The blonde replied casually, as she heard the quick beep of a car horn alerting her that her car had arrived, "Goodbye Gran I'll see you soon." With that, Claire hung up, said her last goodbyes to the small town house where she would always hold fond memories of her Uncle and Father, and walked into the street.

Angela was waiting for Claire in the Lincoln, when she arrived, her bags packed, and their tickets in hand. "You're making the right choice here Claire, this is the best option for you,"

"I'm not doing this for me," Claire said, as she dug her braces into her lip, "I'm doing this for your sons," she didn't look happy, quite the opposite in fact, she appeared quite miserable with the idea of moving to Paris with her Gran for an extended period of time.

Angela nodded, "Very well then Claire, we have common interests, and can be of use to each other in time, but first I must train you away from the prying eyes of our family," her voice was business like and her eyes betrayed no emotion as she invited Claire into the car. "Our flight is in ten minutes,"

Claire and her grandmother seemed to be making a habit of arriving to the airport with minutes to spare. It was unrealistic that the entire airport would put itself on hold for one Mrs. Angela Petrelli, but a sleek hundred here and regular donations to the JFK Airport kept her a very important customer.

They got through security quickly, and were in line to board, when Claire saw him. Nathan was attempting to fight his way past the guards to get to her, "Claire!" he screamed, "Please, don't do this!" he pleaded from afar, and Claire could of sworn that she saw several unmasked tears escape his desperate eyes as she climbed on to the plane.

"How tragic," Angela Petrelli said to Claire as they took their seats, "The press won't forget that episode anytime soon."

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Claire said, her eyes hollow as she remembered his face, so broken, so sad. "I just wanted to stop holding both of them back,"

Angela grabbed Claire's face and turned it to her, "Snap out of it dear, this is what's best. When you return, you will be thoroughly prepared for what awaits you and they will have both reached their potential." Her voice was so calm and so confident that Claire could do nothing more than listen.

Angela released her granddaughter and ordered a pair of headphones so that Claire could watch the in flight movie.

Claire took the opportunity to watch the movie with vigor; it was really a chance to collect her thoughts. The film was a cheesy rom-com, in which the main characters went through several tacky schemes before they were united. Aside from the gist, Claire mainly thought about her life, there seemed so many questions that remained unanswered.

In the six months that she had lived with her father and uncle, her adoptive family had not contacted her once, and when she called, she found the line had been disconnected.

Arthur never talked to her aside from the open family dinners they had once a week. Angela was the only one of her grandparents to visit her at her father's townhouse and Claire sensed that her grandparents were feuding.

All of this swamped her mind as she flew the seven-hour flight to France. About half way through the flight, Angela Petrelli fell asleep, and Claire watched in fright as her grandmother wracked in her sleep.

When the flight landed, Claire lightly tapped her grandmother, trying to wake her. Suddenly, Angela popped open, her eyes momentarily white, but soon after their normal hazel.

"Gran, are you all right, I think you were having a nightmare," Claire said, genuinely worried about the woman who had brought her into the world of the Petrelli's.

"I'm fine dear, my dreams are merely confusing," Angela replied, patting Claire on the shoulder, before standing to leave with her.

A car was waiting for them, and Claire couldn't help but feel reminiscent of the day six months ago when she flew away and left another father.

The car did not deliver them to a hotel, as Claire had expected, but rather to a house in the middle of the city, it was small, obviously a townhouse, but with a little yard in the front, where a swing hung from a large willow tree.

The driver carried their things in, and Claire was led to a room that appeared custom made for her. The walls were a pale icy blue, and the room was airy as if all of the furnishings had been crafted from clouds, lace covering many surfaces, and pictures of her family littering the walls.

"Wow," Claire exclaimed, taking in the room in its entirety.

"Do you like it? I took the liberty of having it made for you, seeing as you may be spending quite a bit of time here." Angela said, her words carefully chosen.

Claire turned around and pulled her grandmother into a hug, "I love it thank you!" she said, her eyes tearing at the thought that was obviously put into the room.

Angela hugged her back, pleased that her granddaughter had come to care for her, and hopeful that her son would forgive her and soon do the same. "I'll leave you to it," she said, before leaving the room and closing the door.

Claire pulled out the cell-phone that Nathan had given her a few days after her arrival, dialing '2' on the keypad, his number was pulled up and Claire heard the dialing sound of her call being made. A gruff voice she did not recognize as her father answered the phone, "Claire?" he asked, his voice jam-packed full with hurt and worried.

"Yeah dad, it's me, I'm really sorry about disappearing," she begged internally that he would forgive her.

"Claire, I know that I'm probably not the best father, and that I can't hold a candle to Bennet, and I'm not home enough, but I just thought that maybe we could get past all of that and be a family." His words were slurred, each one cutting into Claire like a knife. It was obvious to her that he had been drinking, since she had seen many drunks in New York, but it seemed out of character for the man she had come to know as her father.

Not wanting to hear anymore, Claire hung up the phone and made a resolve to call her father tomorrow, when he was sober.

With tears streaming down her face, she climbed into the bed and fell asleep, wondering how she could ever hurt someone so.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I promise that I won't do a lot of these, but this chapter is set during the same as last chapter, but surrounding Nathan and Peter. In addition, I know that you guys are reading this, but I only have one review, so some feedback would be nice.**

Nathan Petrelli was running late. Work had called more time from him today than he expected, and he ended up in the office for thirty minutes longer than he had wanted to. It would be six months today, six months that his daughter had lived with he and Peter.

Sticking his hand in his pocket, he felt the velveteen case of the small necklace he had bought her to celebrate. A white gold locket with her name engraved into the front, he had planned this for two weeks; they would eat at Delmonico's, where he would give her the necklace.

The plan seemed fail proof, not to mention far more elaborate than the stuffed animals that he surprised her with on occasion. Therefore, when Nathan Petrelli entered his small townhouse, it was with excitement and cheer.

"Claire!" he called, ready to announce their dinner plans. To his immense surprise, there was no answer, the lawyer's eyebrows furrowed as he climbed the stairs to find her, "Claire?" he called again, quietly, as he knocked on her door.

The door swung open with a creak, showing an empty bedroom, a letter sitting on the bed.

Dear Dad and Uncle Peter,

I am sorry that you must find out this way, but I have decided to move to Paris with Gran. I know you will be angry with me, and I can only hope that with time you will find time to forgive me. I left for the good of our family, for you Dad and you Peter.

Dad, I hope that in my leaving, you will reconnect with Heidi and make the best father for your son. You have given me a wonderful time of my life that I will remember fondly, and I hope one day I can return to it. For now though, your allegiance belongs in doing everything you can to raise that boy to know he is loved and to progress in your position. (Maybe one day you'll even be congressman!) I love you a lot, and hope that I do not hurt you by this choice.

Peter, I hope that in my absence, you will do better at school and meet a nice girl, who you can settle down with. You're my best friend, and I'll miss you terribly, but I am only a phone call away in Paris. I'm sorry if I have made anything difficult with my presence or absence, but this is what needed to be done.

Love Always,

Claire

Nathan read the letter three times before he understood what it was saying, Claire had left him, after only six months, she had decided that her life would be better somewhere else.

Nathan was suddenly overcome with anger at his own self, and threw his fist into the wall. Screaming in agony, he almost didn't notice Peter come in.

"Nathan are you okay?" Peter asked, his face turning professional, as he kneeled down to help his older brother, "Why did you do that?" he asked, his hands quickly gesturing to the newly made dent in the wall.

Nathan didn't say anything, just handed his brother the letter.

"Nathan, we've got to stop her," Peter said, as his eyes skimmed the neat loopy handwriting of his niece.

"We can't, she's a Petrelli, and her mind is made up," Nathan said, rationalizing, and putting his raw feelings into a box deep within his subconscious.

"No Nathan, don't you remember, when we first met her, and all it took to calm her down was for you to tell her that she was wanted?" Peter said, his mind flipping through scenarios rather quickly. "If you can get to her and tell her how you feel, then maybe she'll stay!"

Nathan, catching on to what his brother was saying, suddenly stood up. "We'll have to hurry, Ma will have her on the first flight out,"

The two brothers ran from their house and found snail pace traffic on the road ahead, but Peter's eye caught on to a man with a motorcycle who was zipping around the traffic with ease, "Wait!" he called to him, causing the man to turn around.

He was a gruff man with a long beard and a leather jacket, "What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice far warmer than his appearance.

"Please," Nathan said, "my daughter has just run away with her grandmother, can we borrow your bike, I've got money." He spoke as quickly as possible, to save any time he was loosing.

The man looked them over once and then agreed, "I guess, but I do need it back," he said with an eye to the house behind the men, "and if I don't get it back, I know where to find yah."

Nathan pulled out his checkbook, "Here's 1,000. Thank you we'll bring it back," they said as the man climbed off.

Nathan and Peter climbed on and the man gave a quick explanation as to how to ride. Thankfully, though, Peter had ridden a motorcycle his freshman year of College, before his mother kindly asked him to get rid of it, for fear that he would lose his life on the blasted thing.

They were at JFK in a matter of minutes, squeezing past roadblocks with apparent effortlessness. Security wasn't a problem, with the cash that both boys were carrying, but neither of them had a ticket, so boarding was impossible.

"Nathan, go, I'll hold them off," Peter said suddenly, as the overhead speaker announced the final board for Paris.

Nathan took of like a jet through the crowd of people, and was almost to her gate, when he was stopped by security. He saw her, and she saw him, she was in line to board when he screamed out for her, "Claire!" he called, as she stared at him, "Please don't do this!" he felt hot tears roll down his face as she shook her head and boarded the plane anyways. He broke through security then, making it to the door right as it closed.

"Sir, you can either walk out of here, or we can forcibly remove you," a large security guard said as Nathan hunched to the floor.

"She's gone," Nathan, whispered, as the man helped him up.

The security guard sighed and patted Nathan on the back, "They all leave eventually," he said, his deep baritone laced with pity for the man before him. The guard helped Nathan all the way back to the first security checkpoint, where Peter was waiting.

"Thank you officer," Peter said, as he supported his brother, "We'll be going now." The officer whispered something in Peter's ear, to which he shook his head.

"Pete, she left, she saw me and I called for her, but she left." Nathan whispered, his face hallow with grief.

Peter made a sound of acknowledgement, before calling a cab. He had never seen his older brother like this, not since the day his high-school sweetheart went missing. After loading the motorcycle into the trunk of the minivan cab, Peter asked the kind Indian man driving it to take them back to the townhouse.

The rode in silence aside from the occasional whisper of something from Nathan, none of which Peter could understand.

When they arrived back home, Peter returned the bike to the man, and paid the cabbie.

"Nathan, chin up," he said after hauling him inside, "She'll come back, after a while," he said, but Nathan was already upset.

Without notice, Nathan suddenly stood up, "Pete, I'm going to the bar, for a drink?" he said quietly.

Peter shook his head, and made a move to stop him, but Nathan was out of the door fairly quickly, heading to the pub down the road.

Once there, Nathan ordered the strongest drinks he could and drank until he was wasted. The bar open, twenty-four hours was accommodating as he fell sleep in a booth for about eight hours.

Upon waking, the pain seemed fairly dull, when his phone rang. The caller ID read out 'Claire Petrelli', and Nathan was quick to answer, "Claire?" he asked wearily, surprised that she was calling.

"Yeah dad, it's me, I'm really sorry about disappearing," she said, her voice a plea for forgiveness. It made Nathan sick; he after all was the one who should be asking her forgiveness, as obviously he had done something terribly wrong.

"Claire, I know that I'm probably not the best father, and that I can't hold a candle to Bennet, and I'm not home enough, but I just thought that maybe we could get past all of that and be a family." He said, his words slurring far past the smear that a couple of drinks gave you. The sky was dark outside, and Nathan figured it to be around ten.

Suddenly the phone gave the dial tone, signaling that she had hung up. "Shit, shit, shit!" he said, angering his thoughts further. "I've got to get home."

The drunken Petrelli man was met with perplexed stares as he stumbled out of the pub, his legs sashaying with every step. He made it home, luckily, but was just barely inside when he tripped over his own feet.

Looking up, he saw his father and brother rush to help him, "What have you gotten yourself into Nathan?' Peter asked as Arthur began to brew a pot of coffee.


	7. Chapter 7

Claire brushed her brown locks carefully, the dying of which had been an idea from her friend Marie; she looked completely different with brown hair opposed to her usual blonde. Tomorrow was her sixteenth birthday, and she was going back to New York to live with her father during his campaign.

Claire had not physically seen her family in a year, of course there had been holidays in America and dinner parties at the Petrelli Mansion, but Claire Petrelli wasn't yet ready to seen them. She spent most of her time in her townhouse alone, as her grandmother had business to attend to in New York; she was left in the capable hands of the help.

The now brunette's blackberry buzzed from her back pocket, "Hello?" she answered, the familiar number of her patriarchal grandmother Angela Petrelli, flashing across the screen.

"Claire, dear, it appears that your grandfather has passed away, he had a heart attack." Angela's voice was far calmer than Claire would have expected, but she ignored it.

"Are you serious?" Claire asked, knowing fair well the hold Arthur held on her family, Nathan would be devastated.

"I'm afraid so," Angela replied, "I'm sending a car to pick you up, we won't let this spoil your birthday," she finished, ending any discussion.

"Alright, Gran, I love you," Claire said, her voice weak.

"I love you too dear," Her grandmother replied, as she hung up the phone.

Claire couldn't help but feel sad about her grandfather's passing, he was the reason for many of the things that her father did. It brought back memories of the one instance in which she had wanted to be lost to the world.

It was her third year in France, and she was going through a bout of depression. Nathan and Heidi had just had their second son Monty, and they had mailed her a picture. That was the only way she and her father communicated those days, letters. Claire couldn't bear to hear his voice after she over heard him suggest to Gran that she stay in Paris a while longer. She wanted to go home, and yet here she was in Paris with only Gran for company as usual.

Claire was sick of everything; she had been the good little granddaughter for long enough, she wanted everything that was being denied to her. That was what had brought her to the roof of the townhouse, wanting. She waited for a while to see if he would call her, Nathan, but he never did, so she jumped.

Her attempt was failed of course, her bones snapped back into place, and her wounds closed up far to quickly for her liking. Claire wondered if there was a God, why wouldn't he give her a way out?

Angela had found her, hunched on the swing, covered in her own blood nearly ten minutes later. Claire wouldn't stop crying, her grandmother never told anyone about what happened, and Claire never spoke of it again.

The soon to be sixteen year old was brought back into reality by the quick beeping of the car driven by Jacque, the same man who had driven her since her arrival.

"Going home?" Jacque asked, his English cloaked heavily with a French accent.

"I guess," Claire, replied solemnly, how she would face her father, she had no idea.

The plane ride wasn't long enough, and before she knew it, she was collecting her baggage.

"Let me help you there Miss," a familiar voice said, to which Claire turned with a smile.

"Peter!" She exclaimed her green eyes happy to see her favorite uncle, "It's so great to see you! Congratulations on finishing school!" Peter pulled her into a warm embrace, and she felt more confident than before, _Pete won't let anything happen to you_, she told herself.

"Thanks Claire, but what did you do to your hair, I almost don't recognize you!" he exclaimed, looking her over. She had grown, she wasn't the skinny little kid he had met six years ago, she was now a woman, curves, and all.

"I dyed it, and I'll bet you ten bucks that dad will hate it," she said with a wink, laughing when Peter gave her a reproachful look.

"Nathan really tried to be here Claire, but he has a big rally for the campaign and you know how that is," Peter said, as he collected her things and helped her carry them to the cab.

"I know Pete, he's doing important work." Claire replied with exhaustion as she climbed into the little cab.

"Where to my friends?" the cabby asked, meeting their eyes in the rear-view mirror, the beads hanging from it dubbing him Mohinder.

Peter and Claire delivered the address simultaneously, and then laughed at the occurrence. The ride was quiet, as Claire snoozed lightly on Peter's shoulder, trying to rest before she had to see her family.

When they arrived at the mansion, Claire got up, and straightened her white lace dress, before slipping on her knee-length black coat and climbing out carefully onto her stilettos.

She shook out her curls before feeling confident enough to go in and face the people she knew as family. She didn't even get a chance to open the door when Angela appeared, giving her a light hug.

"You look beautiful, but what have you done to your hair?" she said, her eyes conveying a silent message to Claire, that the brunette was not completely sure of, Claire gave her grandmother a puzzled look before replying.

"I dyed it, with Marie, yesterday." She looked around the house that was decorated for the holiday and asked the question that was on her mind, "Where's dad?"

Angela paused for a moment, before turning to Claire with the smile that her granddaughter had come to recognize as a fake smile. Claire returned it with one of her own and Angela replied, "Your father should be arriving shortly, with Heidi and the boys. Surely Peter told you about his rally?" her voice was patronizing, but Claire doubted that Peter could pick up on the tone.

"Yeah mom, I did tell her," Peter said, as he gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.

Angela faltered before recomposing herself, "Well let's wait for them in the den, shall we?" she asked, and Claire briefly wondered if her grandmother was as worried about her seeing Nathan as she was.

Peter and Claire followed Angela into the den, where a butler appeared to collect their coats.

Claire ran her hand along the mahogany side tables and remembered the last time she had been in this room.

"Claire you don't understand," Nathan said, as he gripped the bridge of his nose, "it isn't what you think."

"It isn't?" Claire screamed, her eyebrows furrowing much like her father's did when he was angry, "Then why don't you tell me what it was, because it sure as hell looked like you were paying her to stay away from me. My own mother!" Claire was fierce, her words ripping at Nathan.

"Don't use that language with me, young lady!" Nathan said firmly, as he stood up from the plush leather chair, "I only want the best for you and that's all I've ever wanted!" his voice was getting louder at the same pace as Claire grew angrier.

"The best for me?" Claire asked, a faux laugh trailing her question, "You only want what's best for you!" she yelled tears of frustration blurring her vision as her voice darkened, "Sometimes I wish Gran had never brought me here, that I had just lived with the Bennets my entire life." This was a low blow, Nathan had never heard Claire say that and Claire knew that it would hurt him.

"Sometimes I wish that too," Nathan said, regretting the words as soon as they had escaped his lips. He could see that he had cut his daughter far worse than the wound she had given him. "Claire," he said, suddenly softer, "I didn't mean," he paused as she ran, leaving him there to kick himself.

Claire was good at running; it seemed the only thing that anyone ever let her do, run.

The quiet sound of the front locks tumbling brought Claire back, and she saw a rush of blonde and brown hair as her half-brothers embraced her. "Simon, Monty!" she exclaimed, kneeling down to hug them, "How are my two favorite brothers?" she asked, rustling their hair as Simon replied and Monty cooed his toddler language.

Looking up from her brothers, Claire met the eyes of Heidi, who had recently been confined to a wheelchair and her father, who looked at her with mixed emotions.

"Claire, how lovely to see you again," Heidi said to which Claire nodded; she couldn't seem to look away from her father.

Nathan seemed to be having the same problem, so Peter gave him a hug after giving one to his sister-in-law. "Claire," Nathan suddenly said, "you dyed your hair," it was not a question, that much was obvious, but it seemed to bother him.

"Yeah," Claire replied, "I did," the two seemed frozen in their own little world for what felt like hours, but was in reality only a few short moments. Angela, in the end was the one who ended it.

"So Claire, why don't you tell everyone about your time in Paris over the last year," Angela suggested, her voice unfeeling.

"Uhm, sure," Claire said, as she began to tell the tales of her adventures; the boy in her humanities class who had tried to kiss her, the time she spent in Italy with Marie during spring break, and the magazine that she modeled for briefly.

With each tale, Claire seemed to feel more and more relaxed, as did the atmosphere of the home, Peter and Heidi's lively interjections and the boys' questions kept it entertaining, but neither Nathan nor Angela spoke at all.

After brunch, Claire opted to walk around the grounds with her uncle, to get the gist of what exactly had happened here at home in the recent days.

Once they were safely out of earshot of the home, Claire turned to Peter, "Pete, how bad is Nathan," she said, really meaning to ask how much her father hated her, "I mean, is dad going to talk to me?" her expression was grim, when she imagined all that she and her father really had to talk about.

"I don't know Claire, he won't talk about you to me," Peter replied, frowning, "he's just shut himself off from any topics of negativity," Peter said quietly, "And now that dad's dead, I just don't know Claire."

Claire nodded, seeing that she was going to have to get her answers the old fashioned way, by direct conversation.

Nathan seemed to have been thinking along the same lines, as he was not too far away now from where his daughter and brother were talking. Approaching the pair, he cleared his throat, causing them both to jump. "Peter, do you mind if I borrow my daughter?" he asked casually.

Peter shook his head, "Not at all Nathan, go ahead." He said, before walking back to the direction of the house, with one last crooked smile in Claire's direction.

The pair stood in silence for a few moments before Nathan spoke, "Claire, I don't expect you to forgive me for everything that I've done, but as your father, I do expect you to hear me out." He said, using the same voice he used in his political speeches.

Claire raised her eyebrows, and Nathan continued, "I made some mistakes, but what parent doesn't? It was wrong of me to send Meredith away, but she was supposed to be dead, I was distraught. I should've never let my mother take you to Paris; I should've raised you here and let you come home when you wanted to. I am so sorry, but I can't change any of that now and we just have to accept what happened and move on." When Nathan finished his little speech Claire smiled at him, not genuinely, but rather the kind of smile she had picked up from her grandmother.

"While that's all and well that your sorry now, where were you when I needed you?" Claire asked, tears welling up in her eyes, "Where were you during the countless times I tried to kill myself? Where were you when I was all alone and just needed someone to tell me that it would all be okay?" Claire's voice hitched as a knot formed in her throat, she could see the horrified expression in Nathan's eyes as she told him what he had never known.

"So it's great that you feel bad about all the stuff that happened, but you picked your sides, a long time ago, and they weren't with me." Claire's eyes held a new fire to them as she walked away from Nathan, a new fire that made her walk a little taller and stand a little straighter.

It wasn't until later that Nathan emerged from the gardens to round on his mother. He found her in her study, writing on some sort of forms. "How dare you?" he asked her, his voice filled with anger, "How dare you keep it from me that my daughter was trying to kill herself?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger at his mother.

Angela looked at her son with an odd sort of pity, "Nathan, calm down," she said, before returning to her paperwork, "why don't you take a seat, and we'll talk?" she suggested, her voice, the light tone she reserved for her oldest son.

"I will not take a damn seat," he said as he knocked over the armchair, "you kept this from me, she needed me and you kept that from me!" he was beside himself with the emotions that were coursing through him.

Mrs. Petrelli had apparently had enough, "Nathan, I kept nothing from you, everything was there for you to see, but you ignored her." Her voice dripped with venom, and yet her tone was cold, unsympathetic.

"No, you did this," Nathan said, leaving the office, to go find his daughter. "Claire?" he called, but seeing that her coat was gone, he pulled on his own and walked out into the street.

"Claire?" He called again, worrying now where she could have gone. She was after all, not extremely familiar with the city, and there were lots of creeps who would take advantage of her in a millisecond.


	8. Chapter 8

Claire ran again, what else did she really know how to carry out.

She wandered the busy streets of New York until she came to a pub. Might as well get something to eat, Claire thought, remembering the few dollars she had in her wallet. Claire approached the bar with self-assurance, "A coffee please, black." She said coolly.

The man gave her the coffee without much thought, "How about something stronger?" he asked with a wink, to which Claire presented him her ID, which clearly labeled her a minor. The man frowned and turned away from her just as another man sat down.

"Just water please," the man said, as he reached up to reposition his horn-rimmed glasses. He turned to her and Claire could almost not believe the sight as he spoke, "nippy weather we're having, eh?" he said with a smile.

Claire nodded her mouth agape, "Bennet?" She asked the man, who looked at her puzzled, "Noah Bennet?" she clarified.

The man's eyes narrowed, "How do you know who I am?" he asked her, as he reached inside his jacket. Claire could see the outline of something that looked like a gun, pressed against his form in his jacket, worrying her.

"I used to live with you." Claire said, bewildered by his response, and looking for an escape anywhere, "remember Noah, you and Sandra adopted me?" his ignorance was blatant and Claire could tell that he wasn't thrilled when she mentioned Sandra.

"Can I talk to you outside?" he asked, gesturing to the grimy rear door of the tavern. Claire purely nodded in response, wondering if her adoptive father was pulling some kind of gag one her. The brunette followed the man outside, and once there, he pulled out a tazer, "You won't be able to recover from this one," he said as the electricity coursed through her body. The last thing she saw before loosing consciousness was a Haitian man staring at her intently.

When she awoke, Claire was strapped to a table in a room full of complicated looking machines, the light above her gave her body a bluish tint as she looked around for someone to help her.

"Hello?" she cried, terrified at the response she'd get.

"You won't be able to escape," Noah said with an eerie smile, as she struggled against the metal bonds that held her.

"You won't get away with this!" Claire said as she spat at the man with the horn-rimmed glasses.

"Claire, we already have," everything went black.

Claire next awoke back at the Petrelli Estate, with a killer headache. "What happened," she said to no one in particular as she looked around the room, meeting the eyes of her father.

"We found you in an alley Claire, you were mugged." Nathan said, his eyes full of shame and pity. There looked like more that Nathan wanted to say, or convey somehow, but Claire didn't give him the chance. She rose slowly, trying not to dizzy herself and wandered through the house, looking for her grandmother. The sixteen year old wasn't sure what had happened to her, but she was fairly certain that she wasn't mugged.

Eventually, Claire came across her Gran, in the kitchen, eating a small cup of frozen yogurt, "You're up," she said from her seat, as Claire entered the room. Claire nodded as Angela dismissed the staff with a wave of her hand. "I was beginning to worry," Angela said serenely, giving Claire the feeling of the opposite.

"Angela," Claire said, addressing her grandmother for the first time by her name, "what happened to me?" her voice quivered as she slipped into the chair opposite the older woman, her silk pajamas cool against her skin.

"You were mugged dear, we found you passed out in an alley with nothing but your dress keeping you warm." Angela answered, her eyes giving a warning.

"No, I wasn't," Claire said, her headache biting at her sanity, "muggings don't leave these," she said as she gestured to the small black markings that she had felt pulsing on her neck.

Angela stared for a few moments before speaking, "Claire, I can't ask you to understand, but I have done what needed to be done for this family." She said with gumption, before leaving the kitchen, her ice cream only half finished.

Claire knew better than to approach her grandmother again on the subject, so she entered her room and changed into real clothes. A pair of stiletto combat boots, skinny jeans, and a black v-neck where the perfect outfit for her mission, she slipped on her coat and was off into the city.

Claire had met a few of her Angela's friends in her life, and she knew exactly which of these friends could help her now. Charles Deveaux resided on the penthouse apartment of his building, a lavish place with all the things needed to comfort him in his dying days. When Claire arrived, he was alone.

Claire didn't bother to knock, she barged into the large apartment, only to come face to face with Charles Deveaux. "Claire," he greeted, as he poured himself a cup of tea from his wheelchair, "it's so lovely to finally meet you, all grown up," Claire frowned at this, he seemed nice enough, it was a shame she'd have to grill him for information.

"Mr. Deveaux," Claire began, "I need you to tell me about what's happening to me, the things my grandmother won't." Claire said, taken the liberty that he knew who she was, since he addressed her in such a way.

"I know why you're here Claire," he said calmly, pausing to admire her, "you remind me so much of your grandmother, so beautiful, so strong," he continued his eyes far away, "she went through hard times as well when she was your age," something brought him to consciousness and he turned to her, "but we're talking about you."

Claire nodded, edging closer to the dying man, "I need to know."

Charles met her eyes, searching for something that he adherently found, "Let me guess, you fell off the map for two days and then reappeared with no recollection and that lovely tattoo?" he said. It was a rhetorical question, but Claire nodded anyways, "That's the way the company works," he explained, "our relatives, however, were generally excluded from this process," he sighed in exasperation.

Claire was suddenly puzzled, "The company?" she asked, "What company?"

"The one your grandmother, myself, and many others founded," he answered serenely, it was obvious that Claire wanted to know more, but Charles stopped her, "Claire you haven't much time, my next hospice nurse will be here soon, and it will be better if your not see." Claire began to protest, but Deveaux silenced her with one look.

As she was leaving the apartment, Charles spoke one last time, "Oh, and Claire, if you'd like to remove that, just cut it out, I presume you'll heal up just fine." His words shocked Claire; did he know about her ability? No, that wasn't possible, Angela had never told anyone and neither had she, so why did this man know?

While pondering this and walking through the hallway, Claire ran straight into a laughing couple, "I'm so sorry," she said looking up into the eyes of Peter Petrelli who was walking and laughing with a girl with the same understanding eyes as Charles Deveaux. "Peter?" she asked, confused by his being here.

"Do you know each other?" the girl asked, her voice velvet in the air.

"This is my niece," Peter explained, his eyes confused and worried? "Claire, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Looking for you, here's the ten dollars I owe you, dad really does like my hair." With a quick exchange of cash, Claire was off, knowing that she'd have to dish out some damage control when he got home.

Her cab was waiting for her outside and she was quick to climb in, avidly aware that Peter might be watching her. Giving the cabbie her address, she played solitaire on her phone the entire ride home, before paying the man thirty dollars and heading inside.

"Claire, where have you been?" Nathan was waiting for her in the foyer, arms crossed, and expression stern. It was obvious behind his façade that he was really worried about his daughter though, his eyes said that much.

"I was just visiting an old friend," Claire said quietly, as she entered, hanging her coat in the closet immediately.

Nathan stared at her with disbelief, an old friend? She had barely lived in the city for six months in her entire life. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when Claire embraced him, "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through dad, I really do love you."

Nathan struggled to compose himself, beside the shock, before gripping on to his daughter tightly, "I love you too Claire, don't ever forget that," he said, his voice strained as he attempted to mentally process what he had done to cause her to forgive him, he came up blank.

The hug ended almost as quickly as it had begun, and Claire was rushing to the kitchen in search of a knife. The search didn't last long, and Claire was soon leaving the kitchen with a freshly sharpened carving knife, she carried the knife into the bathroom and used the mirror as a guide for where to cut. A towel in her mouth quieted the screams as she carved into her own neck, which was soon covered in blood.

However painful the venture was, Claire was successful and held the piece of skin firmly in her hand as she watched her neck heal itself. Separating the skin from the metal, wasn't too difficult, and Claire soon had in her possession two metal prongs, filled with some kind of fluid. Thinking better than to leave them out, Claire put them in the locket that her father had given her years ago.

Claire didn't know many things about what the company had done to her, she only knew that they were going to pay for it.


	9. Chapter 9

When Claire awoke the next morning, she found that it was rather late, "Damn," she whispered, angry with herself that she hadn't woken up earlier. Had she left before the waking of her family, she reasoned, then she wouldn't have had to tell anyone where she was going.

With tired eyes and a steely expression, Claire got ready for a day of reading before walking downstairs where her grandmother was already eating lunch by herself. Claire blinked unenthusiastically, before she asked, "Angela, where is everybody?" Claire's tone was extremely cold, almost as impersonal as the ice queen before her.

Angela looked up, her hazel eyes calculating, her expression one of pity, "They've gone back to their homes, Claire, but they'll be back for the party this evening," she said with a half grin.

_Party?_ Claire thought to herself, nearly forgetting in all that had happened that yesterday really had been her birthday.

"The presents are in the den, if you'd like to open them now," Angela said, her tone far more cheery than expected, earning a confused glance from her granddaughter.

Claire nodded and approached the pile of presents with a smile. Nathan and Peter had probably wanted to gauge her reaction on their gifts, but Heidi had ordered them to give her space, knowing that Claire had been having a rough couple of days. Claire silently thanked her stepmother as she peeled the silver wrapping paper off the first of the presents.

It was from Peter, a beautiful ring, princess cut with an emerald residing inside, laying beside a pair of silver strappy heels. The card read, "Diamonds are a girls best friend! Happy birthday, my beautiful little niece. Love, Peter" Claire laughed, knowing fair well that Peter had gotten some help from somewhere, seeing as his last birthday present had been a two tickets to see the Mets.

The next package was from Heidi, Simon, and Monty, an elongated rectangular box with Spiderman wrapping paper. Inside Claire discovered a floor length Grecian style dress in a pale green with small rhinestones covering the area where the strap and the bodice met, along with two small popsicle frames with Monty and Simon's faces smiling up at her. The card read, "This would look marvelous on you tonight. –H" along with the messy scrawls of her two half-brothers.

Claire's third present was wrapped with what appeared to be chiffon, showing the bare box underneath rather clearly. Upon opening the box, Claire found a picture of Nathan and herself taken on her twelfth birthday, on top of a key and a note that read, "Be safe, Claire, I love you. – Dad," Claire wondered where the key would take her as it seemed to be a door key of some sort. After no concrete answers as to where it might lead, Claire made a resolve to ask him about it tonight at the party.

There where now two boxes left, one, Claire assumed, was from her paternal Grandmother, Angela Petrelli, but the other?

Claire opened Angela's first and found a new coat along with tickets to a Broadway show. There was no card, and Claire pushed the gift aside to discover the mysteries of the other present.

The gift was concealed in a small box and Claire assumed it would be jewelry of some sort. What she didn't expect is what she found inside. All that was in the box was an address and a lighter and Claire knew instantly whom it was from. Meredith, her biological mother who her father had paid off, the two of them had connected at Claire's last visit, after the young girl invited her up. Claire had discovered that just as she had the ability to heal, her mother had the ability to create flames, merely from her hands along. "Mom," Claire whispered, testing the word on her lips, "What are you telling me?"

Stuffing the address and lighter in her pocket, Claire put the other gifts in her bedroom, before sneaking out of the house, in the direction of the library. Luckily, for the blonde sixteen year old heiress, there was a library within walking distance, and she didn't have to hail a cab.

"Could I get all the newspapers with reference to Angela Petrelli?" Claire asked, knowing fair well that her grandmother was involved. The media specialist looked at Claire with an odd expression.

"Aren't you Claire Petrelli?" she asked, remembering the article last week about lawyer Nathan Petrelli's run for congress. The woman was sure that she had seen the girl's pretty face and name mentioned in the article before.

Claire nodded with a grin, "My English tutor is making me write a paper on the woman I admire most," she explained, the lie falling from her lips like a perfectly rehearsed song.

The librarian nodded, before heading back to where Claire presumed they kept the newspapers in order to gather all the 'Petrelli' articles. It didn't take long, and the woman smiled at Claire apologetically, "I have everything on Petrelli, will that be alright?" she asked, giving Claire a much broader search than she could have ever hoped for.

Claire nodded and grabbed the papers, before taking a seat in a deserted cubicle towards the back. The only Petrelli daughter stifled through the records of her family for a little over three hours, before she discovered what she was looking for. In a manila envelope, looking completely out of place among the records, Claire found a photo of her grandparents alongside many others, a few of which she recognized such as Daniel Linderman, the man her grandfather spoke fondly of, and Charles Deveaux with whom she had spoken just a day ago.

"This is it," she mumbled as she searched the envelope for something else that would give her a definite as to whether or not this was the company or not. All that she discovered was an address in Odessa, Texas. "That's funny," she said to no one in particular, "I could have sworn this was from Mr. Deveaux' rooftop."

With a look at her watch, Claire swore and stuffed the envelope inside her purse before throwing the papers back on the front desk and rushing out of the library.

Claire arrived home with just two hours until the party and she headed up stairs to begin curling her thick mess of hair. Claire finished her hair and makeup with thirty minutes to the party, her hair elegantly pulled up, with two braids crossing her head and curls cascading down her neck as if by magic. Claire was quick to pull on her new dress, along with the heels Peter had given her and the ring along with her favorite dangly earrings and her usual locket.

Coming down the stairs, Claire found that her grandmother was already waiting for her, ready for the high-class party that every debutant in New York as well as a few family friends fro other places would be attending.

"You look beautiful," her grandmother, said appraisingly, "now put on your coat dear, it's quite chilly outside."


End file.
